E-mail: angelchildr@freaky.nu
Rating: pg
Pairing: none
Summary: When the world isn't the one you're used to.
Disclaimer: The boy is not mine. I have never met him. I don't know what he thinks.
Distribution: http://penned-insanity.freaky.nu/ (My site) or ask.
Author's Note: I closed my eyes and let my fingers type. This is what they brought me.

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It's been too long since I had a familiar place to rest my head at night. Hard pillows that aren't my own, that never feel right, that never let me rest as deeply as I should. Beds too big, too small, too cold. None of them are right. The air is off. Different than the air I grew up with. It provides me little comfort when I breathe it in to speak, to sing, to scream. Over wide water so far into lands so strange that I can hardly recognize the things around me as people. Far off countries where others seem to know me, but I don't even know myself.

Cold months spent in the clothes of someone else. Someone that seemed more myself than even I am any more. How tempted I was to stay in that place, run off into the woods and live alone, rediscovering who I once was.

There's a familiar wisp of a girl that travels by my side, and although we've had our differences, she is the most comforting, the most familiar thing to me now.

I find myself lashing out at people that don't deserve it. Kindness seems stripped from me in pieces like carrion birds pick away at dead flesh. I'm afraid that soon there will be nothing left and I'll remain as bleached and as brittle as stripped bones left to harden in the desert sun, scoured clean by the harsh sand that I've thrown myself into.

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